Rigelle
by Dracrashed
Summary: Hermione is imprisoned by the Death Eaters but she is bought and enslaved by a man, who is all too familiar to her. What happened between the two? What was their history? The plot thickens. Like DH never happened. Partially HBP complaint PLEASE READ
1. Nostalgia

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, Potterverse and all its contents belong to JK Rowling no matter how many times I asked Santa for it.

_Rigelle_

_By Dracrashed_

_Chapter 1: Nostalgia_

She looked around at her surroundings. She was in a dungeon, a cold, damp, dark, dirty dungeon. She tried to think, but her conscience kept messing what logic she had left with its relentless screaming, _I gotta get out of here, they've got me now! Need an escape, have to escape._

The chants were interrupting her thought over and over and over again. She couldn't focus. She scanned the room with her chocolaty orbs scanned the room, its warm glow dulled like the blocked light desperately trying to enter the dimly lit chamber.

She drifted off to a disturbed sleep, unable to move because of her chains, disgusted at herself at being so stupid that it got her captured.

Probably made the Order relocate to another headquarters. Most likely worried Harry and Ron out of their wits, they were bound to do something reckless now. Risk their lives to save the feminine third of their trio? The most probable downfall of the wizarding society landing it in the hands of none other than The Dark Lord himself, Voldemort.

Her mind made imaged of her red-headed companion lying on a forest's floor somewhere, who knew where, bleeding, scarlet drops trailing down his ever-so-pale forehead, his easily-colored face that usually ranged from pink to purple was blue, all blood drained from it as it pooled underneath him and into the soil on which he lay. Ron, his laugh was always contagious, the way his smile would light up his entire face. And whenever he was embarrassed, the blush that crept up his face, turning it tomato-red. Or when he was angry, it would almost look like he had steam coming out of his ears.

Her half-conscious mind then made her think of Harry, avenging Ron's imaginary death, fighting with all his might, his strength. She always admired him for it, his strength, and his love for and towards all that he thought deserved it. She, who had, books and cleverness, she'd give anything for his courage, loyalty, she had it of course, but not as much as he did, not as much as he showed it.

The Order, her parents, the Weasleys, who were like a second family to her when during the holidays and especially recently when her parents were found dead, slaughtered by those wretched followers of the Dark Lord.

_Death Eaters. _Their revolting discrimination for all whose blood did not come from a distinguished line, _purebloods _of whom they considered royalty and muggleborns such as her, that they considered filth, no better than the muck on their shoes.

She couldn't quite grasped their concept especially not when their so-called leader had tainted blood. Lord Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, the quiet orphaned Slytherin whom the teachers loved. Who hated his name, the man who fathered him, abandoned his mother, one of the last living descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin, a filthy Muggle?

The Dark Lord who claimed purity of whose parentage was tainted, what an act of hypocrisy.

However ripped apart her thoughts were when she tried focusing on something, anything, her overworking mind would think of _him_. Her dark angel, his thin lips, his skin, as pale as a corpse and yet still managed to make him look alive, his silver-gold hair, its bangs that covered his unusually high forehead making the rest of his features seem more aristocratic then they already were. His steely grey eyes that looked as if they've glimpsed behind the gates of hell.

His voice, deeper than someone who had shaken hands with the Devil himself. His lean, strong body, perfected the entire masterpiece. The masterpiece that roamed her dreams at night, cloaked by a black hood.

_Draco Malfoy._


	2. Watching

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot

_Rigelle _

_By Dracrashed_

_Chapter 2: Watching_

He was just passing through the slave pens. He had watched as women were dragged away from their dying, bleeding husbands. Infants, toddlers, ripped away from their mothers' clutching hands. The whole place reeked of the stench from bloodshed, war. And to think, he could have been on that very same dungeon floor, begging for mercy on his pathetic existence.

And yet, he'd much rather die than live his whole life without _her_. She haunted his dreams, In a good way though. She brightened his dark past, with her cinnamon eyes and honey-brown curls, the warmth of her presence, her laughter, her smile, the very essence of her could brighten up the very darkest of times. The way it used to frizz out whatever she did or attempted to straighten it.He remembered to a time it was straight. Their fourth year at Hogwarts. A pink set of dress robes, set on her slightly tanned skin. That day, she transformed, into a swan, a beautiful, graceful swan.

He hadn't seen her since… well, since the war started.

She begged him, to join them as a double-agent just like Snape once was. Was? Still is? He never asked. He refused, left her in the woods, alone. It was dark. He had heard a scream; it pierced the eerie silence in the cold of the night. The moon was out, and in the distance he saw a skull, a sickly shade of green, and a snake intertwining itself in and out of it in the twinkling night sky.

Draco didn't bother with the revolting idea of what he became, mocking him from high above.

He simply stared into the woods and watched, watched as there was a rustle in the bushes, listened to cracking of a twig, the sound of a creature taking flight in the night. He gazed into the sky, a dreamy look plastered on his face, like a schoolboy naively fantasizing about his crush. Time stood still for the young lad. The stars… he never noticed them before. Were they dancing, happily twinkling in their limitless space? Or angry spitting insults and rumbling at each other? He thought of all these and somehow it all led to his thoughts on her.

Hermione Granger, mudblood, friend of Harry Potter, the brain of the Golden Trio, everyone made her out to be madly in love with that red-headed oaf, Weasley. Yet, the little chit went out of her way as usual to prove everyone wrong.

It was another dimly-lit corridor in the Slytherin dungeons. She was alone, nervous. He observed her every move until he finally made his presence known. He had questioned her like a criminal yet he saw the fire in her eyes, her determination to make him change his mind.

"_Join us Draco, you won't, don't need to do this. We'll hide you, keep you and your mother safe."_

Her exact words after that, would make both old Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor turn in their ancient tombs.

"_I care for you, please let me help you!"_

_The tone if urgency in her voice was almost alarming. Almost like she really cared. She did, and he love the way she persisted trying to persuade him to leave the Death Eaters, despite the history between them that hovered over them like a dark storm cloud._

He went pass another pen; he saw a girl fat asleep, all alone. This was quite strange. Others were forced to squeeze in a cramped little space. But she was all alone. She seemed to be having a bad dream. Twisting and turning as much as her chains allowed her to which was not much.

Her body turned toward him and he first saw what she was wearing, **(A/N: He's a guy, he'll look at her body first, duh! Guys would notice a lampost if it had boobs, no offence though, that was a terribly sexist comment :X)** a too-tight robe that resembled a skimpy swimsuit, revealing her plunging cleavage.

Then he saw her face, the face that haunted his past, the girl, ah screw it, the woman, whose face he missed so terribly.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"See something ya like, sir?"

He nodded and pointed at the said female. He instructed the man to clean her up, and send her to where the Death Eater orgy was to be held. There was to be a special guest tonight.

'_Three guesses who', _He thought sarcastically.

He bumped into one of the lumbering men, trying to sell of one of the many women as slaves to purebloods.

'Get out of my way!' He spat, as he flicked off and imaginary piece of lint of his dark forest green robes.

Hermione awoke to a harsh light, pointed straight at her. She raised a hand, her shackled wrist followed in tow. It created a metallic clunking, telling whoever who was producing the light, she was awake.

'C'mon mudblood, someone of higher rank than ya' s requested fer ya. Seems the Dark Lord got summat planned eh?' She heard a man say in a crude voice.

She whimpered and flinched as he came closer but found he was only taking off her shackles.

Would she run? Could she? Was there a chance she'd escape? Deep, deep, down she knew the answer.

She'd given up long ago. Why try now? hat was there to fight for now? Harry? Did he care enough to come find her? Or did he and Ron both give up? Forgetting the worthless mudblood, just like everyone else. It was hard to believe and yet so very, very plausible…

And in a distance, she saw a bleached blonde head, bobbing up and down as its owner trudged down the corridors with his nose up high. His back facing her. She would've recognized that him, back, front, even from the side. She yearned for his touch, his breath against her skin, his warm caresses, but she knew she would never have her yearnings fulfilled.

All she could hope for was what awaited her would end her tragic existence, once and for all.


	3. Decipher Reflections from Reality

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot yawww.

**A/n: ATTENTION I'm looking for a beta! If you're wiling or know of someone who is contact me yeah?**

_Rigelle_

_By Dracrashed_

_Chapter 3: Decipher Reflections from Reality_

She saw him again when she was dragged into another dimly it dungeon by her toothless captor not long after she saw his blonde head retreating away from her.

The dungeon was brighter and a lot bigger than the one she was held captive in. Its huge are was brightened up only by a dozen candles that were divided equally among the four corners of said dungeon.

Apart from that and the absence of chains, musty smells, its size and pests galore, the dungeons were pretty much the same. Except for the fact that she and her captor were not alone. That was to say if you weren't the slightest bit peeved or bothered by the annoyingly obvious presence of well-dressed men who sat around a long pristine white marble table that contrasted greatly against its dark surroundings.

Its pure, clear surface, a void of darkness, reflected off the men's masks. Reflecting of their cod, penetrating stares hidden behind masks. Their skull masks brought out the utmost best of their features for what they were; Monsters.

Brutal killing machines with no humanity.

It scared her. Terrified hr to no end. The way they stared at her so menacingly. Their eyes that followed her every movement. Scrutinizing her. Almost as if in the blink of an eye, they would devour her like a carnivorous beast would its prey.

But it was all better. Everything would be better if she thought about him. He was so dark and yet, he lit up her world when everything else around her would fall and crumble as it was doing now.

Yep, Hermione was almost spiffing if you missed out the fact that she was held against her will by the minions of one self-righteous, hypocritical, chauvinistic half-blood bastard who held women and children as prisoners of war.

Watching him watch her.

She could've died that moment and gone straight to heaven if only he was close to her.

Close enough for her to touch him. To feel him. For him to hold her, have his way with her just like he did during their little endeavors in secluded alcoves and hidden broom closets.

If she wouldn't have admitted it then, she would now.

Hermione Granger, thee golden trio's brain, the know-it-all, the bookworm, the mudblood, loved Draco Malfoy with all of her golden, pure heart, no matter what its circumstances and consequences were.

She loved him.

Dearly.

And she wasn't going to let him give up on her so easily. In her head, Hermione was already thinking up ways and plans she could carry out just to have five minutes at the least with him. It wouldn't have mattered even if it were only two minutes as long as she could hear his low voice talking to her.

She watched him more intently as he rose from his seat at the table and swept with nothing short of grace towards the table's head. The head of the table where the man, or if you really wanted to be honest, the creature, of the moment, the tyrant himself, Voldemort sat. His blood-red eyes, alive in the near-darkness, shone as it met hers. She refused to meet his eyes instead focusing on the white salvation everyone in the room but she and her captor sat around as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire universe, magic or not.

Her eyes fixed to the table's sleek surface, she saw the reflection of Draco returning back to his seat. The quiet buzzing and murmuring that she had been hearing ceased as Voldemort stood from the table and glided to where she was. Unconsciously she flinched away from his touch as he loomed over her and bent down to caress her cheek. Using her peripheral version she looked to her sides, her captor had mysteriously vanished from where he stood. He must have bowed out while her attention was elsewhere.

And then he spoke, 'This one Draco? I would think you had to much history with the Mudblood to even want anything to do with her.'

Draco was not named Head Boy for nothing. He was blessed with a sharp mind and an a very quick wit.

Bowing his head respectfully, he answered, 'Of course I hate her with all I possess, My Lord. The more she suffers the more I shall enjoy watching and assisting and adding on to her misery.'

Hermione cringed inwardly. Did he really mean what he said? What did he mean by hurting her more? Despite her obvious fear, she held her head high and met her eyes with his before continuing with her mission to outstare the table.


End file.
